


Book One: Chronicles of the Plegian War

by Artisan_Mira



Series: Reawakening Chronicles [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Chrom finds Morgan instead of Robin at the beginning, Chrom is Marc | Morgan's Parent, My Unit | Reflet | Robin is Lucina's Parent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:49:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27580270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artisan_Mira/pseuds/Artisan_Mira
Summary: Chrom, young Prince of Ylisse, finds an amnesiac lying in a field- no, not that one. Morgan seems oddly familiar to Chrom in ways he can't explain, and helping the kid regain his memories might lead to more questions than answers.Meanwhile, Lucina is desperately trying to find a way to save the future- and fears she may already have failed when the younger version of her mother is attacked.
Relationships: Chrom/My Unit | Reflet | Robin, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Series: Reawakening Chronicles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2016004
Comments: 25
Kudos: 115





	1. Meeting Morgan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chrom finds a young boy lying in the field, and something instinctual has him wanting to help the mysterious Morgan.

Really, Lissa was doing better than expected for her first patrol as a Shepard, Chrom thought. He’d honestly expected more complaints. Not to say she hadn’t made her opinions known, but maybe his little sister was starting to grow up, after all. It was both a pleasing and mildly distressing thought. The young prince was spared from thinking more about it when Lissa contradicted his earlier assessment by running ahead on the road, leaving him and Frederick to hurry after her, the great knight having dismounted to walk with his charges and preserve his horse’s energy. 

Chrom opened his mouth to remind her not to rush ahead- she was a healer, for Naga’s Sake!- but was interrupted by the sight of what Lissa had found, or rather, who. 

A young boy was laying in the field in front of Lissa, who was staring at him. Chrom came to stand beside her, taking in the strange sight. He had dark blue hair that barely missed falling into his closed eyes, pale skin that meant he couldn’t have been laying in the late spring sun for long, and looked so at peace you’d think he was laying in the finest bed in Ylisstol’s palace rather than the hard ground. 

“Chrom, we have to do something,” Lissa insisted after they’d stared for a moment.

“What do you propose we do?” he asked her. 

“I-I don’t know!” she exclaimed. Chrom felt his sister looking at him for a moment before noticing the boy was waking up, followed by Lissa seeing the same thing and giving a small gasp.

The boy blinked a pair of dark eyes up at them like he was still half asleep or dazed. There was confusion there, too, and Chrom knew that this was someone whose problems had to extend beyond his poor choice of sleeping location. Lissa knelt down, probably checking him for damage, and Chrom felt himself lean down a bit too. 

“I see you’re awake now,” he told the boy, doing his best to be comforting. 

“Hey there,” Lissa chimed in, giving the young man a warm smile and small chuckle.

“There are better places to take a nap than on the ground, you know,” Chrom said, extending an arm, “Give me your hand.”

The unknown boy reached up obligingly and let Chrom pull him to his feet, taking a moment to steady himself before looking around. Chrom found it a bit concerning that the unknown boy’s confusion didn’t fade as he looked more awake and seemed to increase instead.

“Are you alright?” Chrom asked him.

“Yeah…. Thank you, Chrom,” the boy answered, and the prince blinked. It wasn’t so unusual to be recognized, but almost never by his given name. Despite his protests, he usually got ‘milord’ or ‘your highness’ rather than anything less formal. It was rather nice, actually.

“Ah, then you know who I am?” he asked. That made it more likely he was Ylissean, though his coat didn’t look like the typical garb of his people. The boy- he really needed to ask his name- shook his head and pointed to Lissa.

“She just said your name.”

Ah. Yes. That would make more sense. He fought the urge to glare at Lissa when she giggled.

“Well, you know my name now, what’s yours?” 

“I’m…” the boy’s brow furrowed like he had a headache “Morgan. My name is Morgan.”

The boy- Morgan- looked around, still with that look of utter confusion. Chrom worried he’d been attacked by bandits and was looking for possessions that had long been made off with. Morgan looked so utterly lost, and Chrom felt anger rising for the situation, thinking about an innocent person being attacked and (presumedly) left for dead in a field. He’d have to find a way to help Morgan, even if it was only to make sure he got home to whatever family he might have safely.

“Sorry, but…. Where am I, exactly?” 

That wasn’t a good sign. Maybe Morgan had taken a blow to the head?

“Oh! I’ve heard of this, it’s called amnesia!” Lissa said, sounding a touch too excited about the idea of someone losing their memory, but Chrom figured she was just trying to help. 

“It’s called a load of Pegasus dung,” Frederick interjected, making himself known, “We’re to believe that the only thing you know is your own name and milord’s?” he demanded, rather harshly, Chrom felt. The feeling of protectiveness only increased as Morgan shrank back a bit, looking a bit fearful to be addressed by the imposing Great Knight. 

“Bu-But it’s the truth!” Morgan exclaimed, voice a bit shaky, and Chrom knew he had to intervene. 

“What if it is true, Frederick? We can’t just leave him here, alone and confused. What sort of Shepherds would we be then?” 

“Just the same, milord. I must emphasize caution. ‘Twould not do to let a wolf into our flock” Fredrick replied sternly, eyes moving up and down Morgan like he was searching for a large ‘assassin in disguise’ sign on the young man. 

“Right then,” Chrom replied, partially ceding to his zealous retainer, “we’ll take him back to town and sort this out there.” 

Morgan was probably from the town, anyway, Chrom guessed. He wasn’t quite old enough for Chrom to believe he was traveling alone and far from home unless he was some sort of runaway, which was a whole other issue if that was the case. 

“Hold on a second. Do I have a say in this?” Morgan interjected. 

“Peace, friend,” Chrom assured him. “I promise we’ll hear all you have to say back in town. Now come.”

He knew he was pulling out what Sully called his ‘royal voice’, the one of a man used to being obeyed. But something was going on with Morgan, and Chrom could feel the truth of his words and the veracity of his confusion. He needed help, and if Chrom had to get a little bossy to give him that help, so be it.

Morgan blinked like something had struck a chord with him, but nodded in acquiescence, following Chrom and Lissa as they went back to the road and headed towards town, Frederick bringing up the rear like the wary warrior he was. 

The walk was largely silent, though Chrom found himself sneaking glances at Morgan occasionally, and he knew Lissa was doing the same. There was something about him that Chrom couldn’t put his finger on, and it itched like a spot he couldn’t scratch. 

Morgan, for his part, seemed totally entranced by looking around him as they walked, only barely missing stumbling over stones and dips in the dirt road, taking in everything like he’d never seen it before. If he’d looked young before, it was nothing compared to the bright, open smile that spread across his face as a bird swooped low as it headed for a tree to roost on. Gods, he had to be younger than even Ricken. 

When he wasn’t looking at Morgan, Chrom considered the issue of what to do if Morgan’s memory was in fact gone and if none of his family could be found. It was possible he didn't have a family at all. It was possible he wasn’t from Southtown, or even from Ylisse. What would become of him then? Chrom felt responsible, seeing as it was he and Lissa who had found him.

As the walk continued, Morgan became a bit more withdrawn as something seemed to occur to him. 

“So am I…. your prisoner?” he asked. Chrom let out a bit of a laugh.

“You’ll be free to go once we establish you’re no enemy of Ylisse,” he promised, trying to make his words light enough to convey to Morgan just how unlikely he found the possibility of him being an enemy. 

“Is that where we are? Ylisse? It sounds familiar…” Morgan trailed off. Chrom felt a bit hopeful that perhaps Morgan had just taken a knock to the head and was recovering now. That would let them get the whole issue resolved quickly, hopefully with a happy ending. 

“Oh, of course, the halidom ‘sounds familiar’,” Frederick commented, voice bordering on snarky as he gave a sarcastic bark of laughter, “Someone pay this actor. He plays quite the fool! The furrowed brow is especially convincing.”

Chrom held in an unprincely sigh.

“Frederick, please,” he asked his guardian before turning his attention to Morgan. “This land is known as the Halidom of Ylisse. Our ruler, Emmeryn, is called the exalt. I suppose proper introductions are in order. My name is Chrom- but then you already knew that. The delicate one here is my little sister, Lissa.” Chrom couldn’t resist teasing his sister a bit. It didn’t help when she stomped her foot and pouted.

“I am not delicate!” she huffed. “Ignore my brother, please. He can be a bit thick sometimes. But you’re lucky the Shepherds found you. Brigands would’ve been a rude awakening!” Lissa told Morgan. 

Yeah, Lissa, Chrom thought. That will make him feel safer when he’s confused. 

“What kind of shepherds wear armor like yours?” Morgan asked. Chrom settled for a small laugh instead of explaining the difference between shepherds and Shepherds.

“It’s a dangerous job. Just ask Frederick the Wary here.”

Frederick looked less than amused at the title, but he kept his face as placid as possible as he replied. 

“A title I shall wear with pride. Gods forbid one of us keeps an appropriate level of caution,” the knight lectured before turning to Morgan. “I have every wish to trust you, stranger, but my station mandates otherwise.”

“I understand,” the young boy told him, unoffended, “I know almost nothing but my name, after all.”

“Morgan,” Chrom mused, looking at him closely “Not a common name in Ylisse, perhaps people use it more in other places. Ah, well. We can discuss it later. We’re almost to town. Once we- “ Chrom was cut off by Lissa.

“Chrom, look! The town!” 

The prince whipped around, startled by the yell, and nearly swore. Flames were spreading across the buildings and roofs of Southtown, far too quickly for an accidental fire on a day with no wind. That could only mean one thing. Chrom had almost forgotten why he’d been patrolling this area in the first place. 

“Damn it!” he swore. “The town is ablaze! Those blasted brigands, no doubt.”

He put a hand on Falchion’s hilt, the blade’s familiar feeling grounding him. At least he knew what to do when it came to Brigands. 

“Frederick, Lissa, quickly!” He ordered, already moving. 

“What about the boy?” Frederick asked.

“Unless he’s on fire as well, it can wait!” Chrom snapped. He’d need to apologize later. 

“Aptly put, milord,” Frederic conceded, remounting his horse to be more effective in combat and heading for town. 

“Let’s go already!” Lissa exclaimed, charging for Southtown like she’d be using her staff as a blunt weapon instead of an instrument of healing. Chrom and Frederick were barely ahead of her even with his longer legs and the Great Knight’s mount. Chrom thought he heard Morgan say something, but he was already too far to hear properly and to focused on the town to catch what was going on. 

The three Shepherds hurried toward the commotion in the main square of the town, and Chrom’s blood went cold when he heard a woman scream for help. 

“Chrom, we have to stop them!” Lissa insisted.

“Don’t worry,” Chrom promised, “After today, these bandits won’t be bothering anyone ever again.”

He drew his sword, looking at all the brigands spread throughout the square and the fleeing citizens nearly tripping over themselves to get away. He had a few minutes as the dastards gloated to prepare, but they were all scattered. He and Frederick were the only armed ones, and if they split up, they could be swarmed...What to do, what to do?

“Wait!” came a voice. Morgan had followed them.

“Morgan, why did you follow us?” Chrom demanded. The azure-haired boy paused, suddenly uncertain.

“I…I don’t know. But I’m armed-“ Frederick was going to kill Chrom for not realizing, but the boy’s coat had him almost completely covered- “and I know my way around a fight if you’ll have me.” 

The confident statement was slightly undercut by the nearly sub-audible “I think” that Morgan uttered next. But Morgan did look steady and people did need help. 

“Alright. Strength in numbers, just be careful!” Chrom ordered. Frederick had his own advice for their new ally as well.

“Remember, Morgan, these are practiced thieves and murderers. They will grant us no quarter. It’s kill or be killed,” he spoke sternly. Morgan schooled his face and shifted his coat to reveal the hilt of his sword and give himself easy access to his weapon.

“Let’s do this,” Morgan said. 

“Right- I see you wear a sword, so- is that a tome?” Chrom lost his train of thought when he saw the distinctive bindings of a magic book. “You know magic?”

“I…. think so. I’d better check.”

“I’ll keep a few paces behind while you do, I think,” was the prince’s reply, remembering a few incidents with Emmeryn when she was first practicing the mystic arts. 

“No, I can do this. I’m sure of it,” Morgan promised. There was no time for further discussion after that-the brigands had noticed them, and it was time for battle. 

While most of the brigands not by their leader were in the main square, Chrom spotted one on the edge of the market space who looked ready to go after the people who had fled. Not on his watch. 

He signaled Frederick, who followed him to the escaping axe-wielder. Chrom struck, his retainer striking with his lance right after, ending the bandit before he could even try to retaliate, and he quickly spun back to face the rest of the foes, searching for who to strike next and seeking out his comrades. 

Lissa had taken some temporary cover where she could dash out and heal if need be, and Morgan had decided to skip the tome for the moment, a simple bronze sword in his hands. Clearly, amnesia didn’t affect muscle memory because the boy’s sword struck true, bypassing his foe’s attempt to block. But anyone could get unlucky, and the boy's enemy got in a strike of his own while dodging the next swing from the now wounded Morgan. Adding to the boy’s problems, a second axeman came to add his own strike to the mix, leaving him barely enough time to twist and make sure the wound wasn’t fatal before delivering a harsh strike in retaliation. Chrom and Frederick hurried to Morgan to help, and the prince spotted his sister leaving cover to heal Morgan before the wounds got serious.

 _.Protect weakened allies and noncombatants_ , he reminded himself, striking down the brigand with the axe before while they were distracted by their new wound. Chrom then turned to face a shout from another myrmidon coming to his foe’s aid. 

Morgan led Lissa a little further from the fray, which Chrom was thankful for, and seemed to be getting the hang of his magic, because a thunderbolt emerged from his hand as he retreated, finishing off the swordsman who had caused him so much trouble. Lissa took the chance to heal Morgan completely, face uncharacteristically serious.

Chrom paid for his moment of inattention when the third myrmidon got in a strike to his non-sword arm. He dealt a vicious strike back before the pain and feel of sticky blood on his arm forced him to take a step back, only for Morgan to come running back into the fray and finish off Chrom’s attacker. 

It was good to see Morgan getting his bearings, and he’d cleared the path for Lissa to apply her healing magic to finally get their young friend back to full strength safely as Chrom focused on an incoming mage.

A second later, he was really wishing he’d been able to dodge that damn wind spell as it left him feeling battered and bruised all over before Lissa sent a wave of healing into him. Slightly disoriented from the rapid injury and healing, he nevertheless stuck back with Falchion, Frederick’s lance piercing the brigand’s heart a moment later, ending the threat.  
Morgan stepped a bit in front of them as Chrom caught his breath, sword out again. He exchanged rapid-fire strikes with another swordsman (how many did this group _have_ , for Naga’s sake?) and Chrom’s heart clenched. 

“Are you alright, Morgan? Don’t rush into danger,” he heard himself cautioning, picturing Frederick’s eyebrow at this advice coming from Chrom of all people. 

“I’m fine!” Morgan promised, eyes on his enemy as he finished him off, but Lissa still made them both get a healing before they went after the leader of the gang, the only one left. 

Despite watching his crew be summarily dispatched by the Shepherds, the leader seemed in fine spirits. Perhaps being deranged was a prequalification for these activities. 

“Here, sheepy sheepy!” the man called. “Come to the slaughter.”

His axe was a deterrent to Frederic taking him head-on, so Chrom made the charge, Morgan in lockstep with his tome behind him. A good strike from Falchion and a blast of lightning later, the brute was nearly down for the count, allowing Chrom to dodge his last attempt at a blow easily before finishing him. 

The fires still burned, but the people would be safe as soon as he got them out. Already the citizens were forming bucket brigades now that they could do so without fear of attack, and Southtown was prosperous enough that many houses had fire-resistant charms on the thatched roofs, making it harder for the flames to spread even if the starting points couldn’t be saved.

He’d have to talk to Emm about getting them some relief along with other towns that had been attacked recently. He knew that his older sister often relied on his firsthand accounts to give her a better picture of what their people needed, and he took that seriously. 

“Well, that’s the end of that,” Morgan commented, drawing Chrom out of his thoughts. 

“Lucky for the town, we were close by,” Lissa said. “But holy wow, Morgan! Swords and sorcery- it looked like you could read what the enemy was going to do before they did! Is there anything you can’t do?”

“You’re certainly no helpless victim, that much is for sure,” Chrom added. Morgan had really come through as the fight had gone on- he had a real gift for battle, which made it all the more confusing how he’d wound up in that field- unless he was attacked with overwhelming force, but why leave him alive then?

He always did get a bit maudlin after a skirmish. 

“Indeed,” Frederick added, voice still wary. “Perhaps you can even be capable of an explanation for how you came here?”

Chrom held in a sigh at how Morgan slumped a bit at that, looking like Lissa when scolded and reminding him that no matter how gifted, Morgan really couldn’t be that old. 

“I understand your skepticism, Sir Frederick,” Morgan said, finding some inner resolve. “And I cannot explain why I only know my name and how to fight. But I’ve shared all I know, believe me.” 

“You fought to save Ylissean lives. My heart says that’s enough,” Chrom assured Morgan. He was determined to take Morgan back to Ylisstol with them. If there was no way to restore his memory, the boy deserved to be cared for and given the chance to make something of himself for the good he’d done today. He was sure Emm would agree, and that they’d find something for Morgan even if he didn’t want to be a Shepard. 

“And your mind, milord?” Frederick cut in. “Will you now heed its council as well?” 

He should really keep a count of how many sighs he’s had to hold in today. 

“Frederick,” Chrom said, a little stern now, “My mind can see clearly how much Morgan has helped us and the people of Ylisse with no expectation of reward. He could be a fine Shepard. Besides, I believe his story, even if it does sound a little odd.”

“Thank you,” Morgan said, smiling brightly.

“So, what do you say- will you come to Ylisstol with us?” Chrom asked, realizing Morgan should get a say in this.

“I would be honored,” Morgan told him, and something like relief settled in Chrom’s chest. Skilled or not, he didn’t think someone like Morgan should be wandering on his own with no memory, family, or friends. 

But before they could set out for the capitol, the Shepherds assisted in putting out the fires and checking for hidden pockets of heat in the thatch. As they finished, Frederick spoke up- thankfully not about Morgan this time. 

“Did you notice, milord? The brigands spoke with a Plegian accent.”

“Plegian? What’s that?” Morgan asked, eyes curious. Chrom had in fact noted the accent, but he focused on explaining to Morgan first. 

“Plegia is Ylisse’s westerly neighbor. They send small bands into our territory, hoping to instigate a war,” Chrom told him, not ready to get into all the complexities of the relationship between countries. 

“And it’s the poor townsfolk who suffer!” Lissa exclaimed indignantly. “Totally innocent, and totally helpless…” she huffed in frustration.

“They do have us, milady,” Frederick soothed. Chrom noticed Morgan’s head tilting to the side in a gesture the prince was rapidly coming to recognize as something that struck as familiar to the young man.

“Shepherds to protect the sheep,” Frederick continued unaware as he shifted to lecture mode. “Do not be swept up in your anger, it will cloud your judgment.”

“I know, I know,” Lissa nearly pouted. “Don’t worry. I’ll get used to all this.”  
She was spared further lectures from Frederick by one of the village elders approaching. 

“Milord, please! You must stay the night! We are simple folk of simple means, but we would gladly toast your valor with a feast!” the man proclaimed, and Chrom was hit once again at how badly his father’s policies had skewed his people’s sense of duty that they offered a feast to a lord before talking of rebuilding. Luckily Frederick had the matter in hand. The man did have his moments. 

“A most generous offer, sir, and no doubt your hospitality would be grand...But I’m afraid we must hurry back to Ylisstol.” Few could argue with Frederick at his most calm, authoritative tone. Lissa paused in her chatter about low sodium soup and gaped at their friend and guardian as the elder left.

“Wait, what? We’re not staying? But Frederick, it’s nearly dark!”

“When night falls, we’ll camp. Eat off this land, make our bed of twigs and the like…I believe you mentioned you would be ‘getting used to this’?” Frederick questioned her, mildly. Lissa for her part, unable to truly argue, merely slumped her shoulders in an unladylike fashion. 

“Frederick? Sometimes I hate you,” Lissa informed the great knight. 

“Quite the stern lieutenant there,” Morgan commented. 

“Yeah, well, ‘stern’ is one name for it,” Lissa grumbled. “I can think of a few others!”

“Frederick only smiles when he’s about to bring down the axe,” Chrom warned Morgan. 

“Got it,” Morgan nodded. Frederick coughed for their attention. 

“You do realize I am still present?” he questioned, and Chrom couldn’t resist. 

“Oh, we realize,” he teased, glad to get a laugh out of his sister and Morgan. 

“Milord remains as amusing as ever. Now then, shall we be going?” Frederick emphasized his question by untying his horse and gesturing towards the road with one gauntleted hand. 

“Alright, alright. Ready to go, Morgan? The capital isn’t far,” Chrom promised. Part of him was worried he might be taking Morgan from his home, but surely anyone in Southtown missing a son would have spotted Morgan in all the time they’d been assisting the townsfolk. 

No, he thought as they set out, Morgan was a mystery. More importantly, he was someone in need. Chrom was sure that in time, he could get to the bottom of what was going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the fic! Thanks for reading. I just wanted to add a note here for anyone who might be curious about what specifically I've changed here. If you don't care, feel free to skip.  
> So, changes of note:  
> 1\. Morgan takes Robin's place in the first few chapters of the story, obviously (Don't worry, Robin will show up soon!)  
> 2\. It's implied in the game Morgan is from another timeline, but in this case, I've decided to make him from the same timeline as the other future kids.  
> 3\. Morgan's Amnesia- So, in this story he doesn't even get to remember Robin (sorry, Morgan), but he'll end up getting more memories total back eventually, so it's a net gain.


	2. Fury of Earth and Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgan figures out a few more things he knows but can't explain, has a chat with Chrom, and battles strange creatures in the middle of the night.

As night blanketed the sky and they made camp, Morgan considered his life. Seeing as he could only remember things from midmorning of that day, there wasn’t much to consider. He was very glad that he’d been found by Chrom and Lissa- and to a lesser extent, Frederick. It really could have been much worse.

He wondered if everyone felt so safe with these people, or it was just him. Maybe his memories would come back and he’d realize they looked like people he knew or something. He screwed up his face, trying to pull anything from his past into the forefront of his mind, but everything except the little he already knew slid like water through his fingers. His name was Morgan, he was trained in combat…nothing else. 

At least the sunset through the tops of the trees in the forest was beautiful- not a bad one to be the first he ever remembered if nothing of his past came back to him. But he wanted it to, badly. Did he have parents, siblings, friends? Was someone out there worried about him at all? He was running solely on intuition here, but he felt off-kilter like he’d forgotten something he was supposed to be doing. 

_Of course you do_ , he scoffed to himself, _you’ve forgotten anything you’ve ever said you’d do except tell Chrom you’d come with him_. Morgan refused to give up, however, engrossing himself in figuring exactly what he did and didn’t know. He knew the names of the types of trees in the forest and some of the flowers, but not where he’d learned them. 

He could speak, and he’d read the signs in town easily, so he must have been taught that at some point. Magic and swordplay, too, considering how natural the battle had felt once he shook off the lingering confusion from his awakening. A flash of memory came: someone’s hands on his much smaller ones, correcting his grip, it was- Lissa’s voice startled Morgan out of his memory. 

“I told you- it’s getting dark already!” She told a stoic Frederick before making a noise of disgust. “And now the bugs are out! Noisy, disgusting bugs that buzz around and crawl all over and bite you when- Agh!”

Lissa spent several seconds in a rather unladylike bout of spitting. 

“One got in my mouth! Blech! Ptooey!” she complained as she tried to get the offending insect out. Morgan held in his laughter by force of will alone, but it was a near thing. Chrom seemed amused too as he watched his sister’s dramatics. Frederick’s thoughts remained locked behind the vault door he claimed for a face. 

“Aw, come on now, Lissa,” Chrom tried to soothe his sister. “Hardship builds character. Want to help me gather firewood?” Lissa ignored his question in favor of continuing her attempts to remove the bug from her mouth before squealing in distress. 

“I think I swallowed it…” she muttered miserably before looking at Chrom. “I’ll pass on the firewood, thanks. I think I’ve built quite enough character for one day!” she declared. Morgan did feel sympathy for her- she was clearly having a hard time with roughing it, and it had been a long day. His stomach rumbled, and he realized yet another thing missing from his memory- when he last ate. 

“We should think about food, right? I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” Morgan told the others. 

“Yes,” Frederick agreed, “I should think a little hunting and gathering is in order. Now, who wants to clear a campsite?” 

“I’ll do that,” Morgan volunteered, “I uh…well if I ever did know how to hunt, I’ve forgotten.”  
Frederick huffed at the mention of his ‘amnesia’ but dutifully went off to find them something to eat. Chrom clapped his hands together with some enthusiasm. 

“Well, then. I’ll get the firewood and then help Frederick with our dinner,” he informed Morgan and Lissa. “We’ll be back shortly.”

Chrom headed off in the same general direction as Frederick, whistling slightly as he walked along. Morgan looked around the spot picked for their campsite. Luckily, the forest floor was already mostly clear, so he was able to focus on using the small trowel from the Shepherds’ supplies to make a barren patch into a small fire pit before lining it with stones and placing the twigs and dried leaves he found next to it for tinder. 

“Wow, you must have done this before, huh?” Lissa asked, moving to help get the last bit of debris out of their bed for the night. 

“I think so…feels familiar, anyway,” he told the blonde cleric. 

“Do you think your memories will come back?” she asked.

“I don’t know…I mean, I remembered some stuff, right? So it can’t all be just...gone,” Morgan reasoned. 

“That’s the spirit!” She encouraged. “Maybe you’ll wake up tomorrow and be able to tell us all about yourself.”

That was probably a little over-optimistic, but Morgan appreciated it. 

“Maybe,” he conceded. The campsite was nicely clear now, so hopefully no one would be stabbed by a rock or branch in their sleep tonight. Chrom and Frederick returned with logs for the fire and a large animal carcass that turned out to be a bear. Lissa wrinkled her nose and was suddenly very enthusiastic about fetching water from the nearby river when it came time to skin the bear and remove the intestines. 

Morgan set the logs up with a good amount of tinder, but Frederick insisted on starting the fire himself- he claimed he wanted it done properly, but there was a gleam in his eye that hadn’t been present during any other activity. Soon bear meat was roasting on the fire, and Morgan must have been even hungrier than he realized because it smelled absolutely delicious. 

Lissa returned with the water as the bear finished cooking, and they all sat around the fire as the food was distributed on tin plates. Morgan dug right in happily, barely pausing to taste the food before swallowing. It struck him as amusing that this was simultaneously the best and worst food he ever remembered having. Chrom seemed to be enjoying their dinner as well. 

“It’s been too long since I last had bear meat. Delicious!” he proclaimed, and then Morgan saw him turn his gaze to Lissa and her full plate. “What’s wrong, Lissa? Dig in.”

“Pass!” Lissa said, setting her plate to the side with a look of disgust. “God’s couldn’t you spear us a food normal people eat for once? I mean, come on! Who eats bear? You’re meddling with the food chain. Right, Morgan?...Uh, Morgan?”

Morgan jerked his head up before swallowing a slightly overlarge bite. 

“Um….”

Lissa threw her hands up in frustration before sighing. 

“I suppose a person would enjoy just about anything after not eating for days….” She commented. Morgan wasn’t sure that that was true, but what did he remember? Right, nothing. Was this going to be how he thought from now on? Constantly aware that he didn’t know what he’d forgotten?

“Just eat, Lissa,” Chrom ordered his sister. “Meat is meat.”

“Since when does meat smell like old boots? Wait, I take that back- boots smell better!”

“Every experience makes us stronger, milady,” Frederick interjected. “Even those we don’t enjoy.”

“Really?” Lissa questioned incredulously. “Then why don’t I see you eating, Frederick?”

Morgan glanced over and sure enough, Frederick too had a full plate. The knight cleared his throat awkwardly, though surprisingly his cheeks didn’t pink with embarrassment. He really did have incredible self-control. 

“Me? Oh, well…” Frederick hemmed. “I’m not hungry. I…I had a large lunch! Yes, quite.”  
Morgan found himself exchanging glances with Chrom, attempting not to snort at the obvious cover. 

“Yeah right, Frederick!” Lissa said. She glanced at her plate again and wrinkled her nose. Well, best not to waste food, right?

“If you’re not gonna eat that, Lissa, can I have it?” he asked. Lissa looked at him in an expression that was half horror, half wonder. 

“Geez, you must have a hollow leg and an iron stomach, Morgan,” she told him as she handed over her plate. Morgan just shrugged and focused on his food. Really, if you didn’t smell it, it tasted pretty good. 

Chrom and Lissa continued to chat, with Frederick occasionally chiming in as the night grew steadily darker and Morgan finally ate enough to feel comfortably full. Lissa was the first to curl up on the ground and pass into sleep, with Frederick following soon after when Chrom persuaded him that the younger man could take first watch. 

That left Morgan staring aimlessly into the flames, occasionally poking it with a stick as he tried once again to strain his memory for anything solid, anything that could tell him who he was or where he came from. 

“Sometimes sharing heavy thoughts makes them lighter, you know,” Chrom’s voice broke into his thoughts. “And I have a guess as to what yours might be.”

“Not hard to guess, really,” he replied, “what else would an amnesiac be thinking about?”

Morgan looked up in time to catch Chrom’s shrug, watching as Chrom leaned on his knees, sword across his lap. The man’s blue eyes were very intense as Chrom focused on him, and Morgan felt something familiar in the concerned gaze. 

“I just….it’s like reaching for something that I can’t quite grasp, you know?” He found himself gushing. “I keep trying to remember something, anything! But the most I get is impressions, feelings.” 

“What kind of impressions?” Chrom asked.

“Like….this isn’t the first night I’ve spent by a campfire. I was thinking about the battle earlier and how someone must have taught me to use a sword, and I started to remember someone fixing my grip on a practice blade but then it just…” he waved his hand vaguely to indicate the indescribable feeling of memory slipping away. 

He decided not to mention how familiar Chrom, Lissa, and Frederick felt to him. That didn’t strike him as something you tell strangers you’d just met. 

“At least you got something new, right? More will come, I’m sure of it,” the older man encouraged him, and Morgan let some tension drain out of his shoulders, but his stomach still turned with anxiety- or possibly too much bear meat. 

“What if it doesn’t?” it came out as little more than a whisper, but the other blue-haired man must have caught it, because he got up and gave Morgan a firm squeeze on the shoulder, leaving his hand there as a warm weight. Morgan took a deep breath and looked Chrom in the eye. 

“Then you’ll make new memories- a new life,” Chrom promised him. “I’m going to do everything I can to help you. Things will be alright. You’ll see.”

Morgan managed a small smile, which seemed like enough for Chrom, who patted his shoulder once before returning to his previous spot by the fire to continue his watch. 

“Get some sleep, Morgan. Tomorrow is another day.”

“Right,” he nodded, laying down and tugging his coat more firmly around himself and using his arm as a pillow before closing his eyes. The warmth of the fire and the feeling of a full belly should have been enough to lull Morgan to sleep, but there was some sort of restless energy he couldn’t describe that kept him up. He resigned himself to a long wait for sleep that night and held in a sigh.

Then Chrom began to hum a simple tune absentmindedly, and before he knew it, sleep washed over Morgan like the tide rolling in.  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Morgan was five years old, and he was running through the gardens giggling. Even though he’d nearly gone tumbling over several times, he kept going as fast as his little legs could carry him. It was spring, and everything was bursting with color as Morgan ran past it with his prize clutched tight in his fingers. 

“Morgan, get back here! Cookies are for after lunch!” a distant voice scolded. While older than him, the voice was clearly also a child, probably female, and he knew if she caught him, he’d lose his cookies and she’d tell on him anyway, so it was better to keep running. 

“Can’t catch me, Luci!” he declared boldly, still running heading for an archway. When he passed it, the scene changed. He was his correct age again, and he was surrounded by water on a tiny raft, all alone on a vast, barren sea. He sat down as the waves rocked his poor excuse for a boat, not wanting to fall over. 

The waves got rougher and rougher, shaking him back and forth until Morgan felt like he was gonna be sick. Waves weren’t usually like this, were they? No something must be wrong-

He slammed back to full awareness in an instant, breaking out of his dream and realizing what was going on. The ground underneath Morgan was shaking like a tree in the path of a tornado, and something in the sky was shining with an eerie blue-white light. 

“Earthquake!” Frederick yelled, entirely unnecessarily in Morgan’s opinion. The tremors stopped after a moment, and the great knight hurried to soothe his terrified steed. Morgan took the time to stand slowly in case of aftershocks and looked around, noting a problem immediately.

“Where are Chrom and Lissa?” he asked. Frederick, the horse calmed, had mounted up.

“I don’t know. We must find them!” he declared. A scream split the air a moment later, and both their heads snapped in the direction it came from. 

“Was that Lissa?”

“No time, get on!” Frederick demanded, and Morgan took a few steps at a run to swing himself up onto the charger quickly, gripping the dark-haired knight’s armor tightly and squeezing with his upper legs for a better grip on the horse as they took off. 

Another bit of random knowledge, he noted as they made haste for the source of the noise. Orange light, too big for any campfire, lit up the knight as they headed for the source of the scream. Morgan looked around and realized that the ground hadn’t just shaken, it had split, and there was a new river of lava dividing the forest. 

But there was no time to dwell on it as Chrom and Lissa came into view. Frederick had barely reigned in his horse to a stop before Morgan jumped down, trying to assess the situation. 

“Milord, milady! Are you hurt?” he heard Frederick ask, but Morgan’s attention was taken by a terrible sight. Warriors with purple-tinted skin and glowing red eyes were snarling and grunting at them. Splotches on their bodies indicated decay, like they were….dead bodies. Gods.

“Do things like these show up often?” Morgan asked. 

“They’re not from Ylisse, I promise you that,” Chrom replied grimly. 

“No one is injured, then? Thank the gods…” Frederick breathed.

“Thank the masked man who saved me!” Lissa replied. Morgan looked around for anyone he’d missed, but there was no one but them and the creatures. “If it wasn’t for him, I’d be…Hey, where did he go?” Lissa asked, noticing there was no one else with them.

“We can worry about him later,” Frederick commanded, “After we’ve put these…things…to the blade. Eyes open, now. We know nothing about this enemy.”

“Right,” Chrom agreed, adjusting his grip on his sword. The creatures seemed to be scattered between them and the lava river to the west, with some to the south as well. 

Morgan found himself scanning the battlefield, making a note of where their enemies were placed, trees that could provide extra cover and- 

“Forts!” he yelled, making the others look at him. 

“What?” Chrom asked him, but Frederick got it. 

“They provide advantages, Milord- and protection,” he told Chrom, who nodded like he was remembering. 

“Use them if we can, then, but I don’t want those monsters leaving here to hurt people,” he ordered. Morgan drew his sword, noticing Lissa moving to the rear out of the corner of his eye. He moved for the closest fort, wanting to get a wall at his back and ensuring his tome was where he could reach it quickly if needed. 

He saw Chrom had taken cover in the other fort when it became clear that the horrific creatures they were facing would attack them rather than needing to be chased. Frederick took a position between them, ready to assist whoever needed help and create a line between the creatures and civilization. 

There was a quiet voice in the back of Morgan’s head, calm and firm as it walked him through steps. 

_Note weapons, identify weaknesses, prepare counter attacks_ , the voice told him, and he ran through it like a checklist as a creature in the guise of a swordsman came at him. More accurate than the fighter that had gone for Chrom, Morgan knew even as he moved that he’d reacted too slow to avoid taking a hit, twisting his sword to shift the attack to a non-vital area instead. His angle for a return strike was poor but he still managed to put a gash in the swordsman on the ribs through the material of his clothing and into the flesh. 

As Morgan dodged another blow and then locked swords with his enemy, he spotted an armored blur out of the corner of his eye, disengaged his sword, and rolled away as Frederick came in for a finishing strike with his lance, nodding his thanks to the knight when he was on his feet again. These things didn’t seem to leave a body behind- the vanquished foe simply burst into smoke.  
Morgan leaned against the wall for a moment, waiting for the next opponent to come towards them before he heard shouting.

“Captain Chrom! Wait! I’m coming!” came a new voice that Morgan didn’t know- but it sounded like someone itching for a fight, and they’d definitely found one. 

“Good, Sully found us,” Frederick said, as the now identified Sully called out a challenge about the exact location she planned on sticking her lance to their enemy, though unfortunately they didn’t seem to have the presence of mind to react to the violent taunt. 

“Another Shepherd?” Morgan guessed. He was beginning to think either his amnesia meant that he forgot what a shepherd really was or they were a really unique band of flock guardians. 

“Yes- and it seems she brought an ally as well,” Frederick said, indicating another fighter that Morgan couldn’t quite see except for the distinct shape of a bow- good, he didn’t like the unbalance of being the only ranged fighter here. 

“Good. We can come around and pinch the enemy off now that Sully and her friend have their attention,” he commented. Frederick gave him a sideways glance as Morgan pushed off from the wall and prepared to move, grabbing his tome to attack from a distance as they approached. 

“Sound tactics. You seem to have a gift for it,” the great knight commented, and Morgan felt it sounded half compliment and half suspicion. 

“If I do, I don’t remember how. But I’m going to use everything I can to help,” he commented. He felt refreshed as he left the fort with Frederick on his heels, and he tried to tug at his mind to get a memory as to why but all that came was a little snippet of the voice again. 

_Forts aren’t as good as a staff or even a vulnerary for healing, but they’ll do in a pinch_ , the voice reminded him, and Morgan shook off the thoughts and focused on the battle. There would be time to search his empty mind later- maybe he could knock something loose by hitting his head on a tree- but he had to get through the fight first. 

As he approached, Morgan was able to make out the woman who must be Sully on her horse more clearly, spiky red hair windblown from a hard right and fast movements. The cavalier had stayed slightly within the tree line to help compensate for the imbalance between her lance and the axe fighters she was battling while the archer took shots at an approaching swordsman. 

Chrom had joined them as they moved, dispatching the axe fighter when they were looking at Sully, and Morgan finished off the swordsman going for the archer before he could get in range to injure the light blue-haired man. He hoped the rustling in the trees was Lissa making her way to join them and not more of the creatures.

Besides the leader, who seemed to be hanging back for now, there were two axe wielders and an archer left. Lissa had emerged from the trees to heal Sully, and Morgan ran through ideas at lightning speed before speaking up.

“Frederick, can you take out the archer? Then Chrom and I can handle the axe wielders while the others provide backup,” Morgan said, fairly sure that was their best bet. Even if the fighters went after Frederick while he was headed for the archer, his thick armor would protect him until he and Chrom took them down. 

Frederick looked to Chrom for instruction, who Morgan realized was looking right at him in turn. 

“You’ve got a mind for strategy,” Chrom said, “We’ll talk about it more later. Frederick, go. Shepherds, follow Morgan’s plan!” 

Frederick took off like a shot to take the archer at a charge as Morgan and Chrom went for the incoming fighters. 

“Sully!” Morgan said, pushing down his nerves at ordering a person he just met, “Come with me- then we have ranged attacks in both pairs.” He pointed for their archer to join Chrom to that end, who gave something a touch too elegant to be a salute as he followed Chrom to battle. 

“I like the way you think, kid,” Sully told him, adjusting her lance, “Now get ready!”

Morgan whirled out of the way of the first blow of his chosen opponent but overbalanced slightly and missed his first strike. Sully managed to land a deep blow on the fighter’s side, however, allowing Morgan to readjust and swing his sword to behead the creature on his next pass. This one too dissipated into dark purple smoke once vanquished, and another puff of smoke showed Chrom had gotten his target too. 

The archer left Chrom’s side to shoot a finishing blow at Frederick’s target- gods could these things take a pounding if a charging great knight couldn’t finish them in one blow- and then it was just the leader left. 

Morgan only really became aware of the aching in his side from the blows he’d taken when Lissa came to heal him, staff glowing brightly with healing energy that sunk into Morgan’s flesh and restored his energy as his skin knit together. 

Though their lances were at a disadvantage to the last foe’s axe, Sully and Frederick both struck at him from either side, keeping him boxed in and wounding him before Chrom struck the final blow, right where the fiend’s heart would be, nodding curtly after the telltale burst of smoke showed the enemy was defeated. Blue eyes sternly scanned the field for any more enemies before relaxing as Lissa came to fuss over him and the others who hadn’t had her attention yet. 

Morgan turned to their allied archer.

“I’m Morgan, nice to meet you,” he said. It was odd to introduce yourself to someone you’d just fought alongside, but battle made for strange situations. 

“Virion, at your service! I am the archest of archers!” the man declared grandly, bowing shallowly but with grandeur. “That was some excellent aptitude you showed there, young man.”

“Thanks,” Morgan replied, suddenly realizing how cold the night was without a fire or the adrenaline of battle to keep him warm when he shivered. He pulled up his hood and adjusted his coat to try and warm up a bit. He heard Chrom and Frederick talking in the background but couldn’t make it out, instead focusing on Virion and Sully when she came to join them. 

“Nice fighting out there, kid,” she said in lieu of a greeting, “how’d you end up with the Captain?”

“He uh, found me in a field and asked me to come to Ylisstol with him after I helped with an attack on Southtown,” Morgan said, watching as confusion crossed both his companion’s faces. 

“Found you in a field?” Sully asked, almost demanding “What were you doing there?”

Morgan felt his shoulders hunch and cursed that he was letting how self-conscious he was show. 

“I don’t know, actually. I lost my memory. That’s why Chrom wants me to come with him- he said he’d try to help, and I guess I impressed him with my fighting or something.”

Sully snorted, not unkindly. 

“Yeah, our Captain’s got a big heart- wants to look after everyone. Damn weird about your memory, though.” 

“Tell me about it,” Morgan muttered, getting a clap on the back from Sully in response. 

“Hey, you’re one of us now. No need to be down,” she told him. Morgan smiled at her, then noticed Chrom, Lissa, and Frederick had joined them. Morgan saw someone leaving through the trees but couldn’t make out any details- maybe it was the person who’d saved Lissa? The figure vanished from sight as Chrom addressed them.

“I hate to say it, but we’re going to have to travel through what’s left of the night,” he told them tiredly. “We need to hurry for the capital- either this happened there too and they need help or the Exalt needs to hear about this. Virion, will you be joining us? We could use a man with your skills.”

Morgan was afraid a vein in Frederick’s forehead was going to burst with how strong it pulsed at the notion of another stranger joining them, but he kept his opinions to himself this time. Morgan wondered how often Chrom picked up stray people. 

“I would be honored to join your cause, good sir,” Virion declared. 

“That’s that, then. Let’s get moving,” Chrom ordered. Even Lissa didn’t complain as they set a steady pace eastward, only pausing to gather their supplies from the campsite and ensure the fire was doused.

Frederick and Sully dismounted to walk their horses. Chrom seemed determined to stick to Morgan’s side as they walked, though he didn’t speak about Morgan’s newfound tactical skills. He didn’t speak about anything, in fact, which Morgan would have preferred to all the questions swirling around his head. 

Who was he? Where did he learn? Was that voice he’d heard a memory of a teacher, maybe? And why did he feel like he’d missed something important back in the forest?

He glanced back at the trees as they left, but there were no answers, only still and silent trees that could have stood for decades or even centuries. 

_Must be nice_ , Morgan thought, _to know exactly where you belong_. 

Maybe he’d find out in Ylisstol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate Chapter Summary: Morgan is a confused bean and completely misses reuniting with his sister because he's got his hood up and is talking with Virion. 
> 
> I want to thank everyone who has read this work, left kudos, and commented. This is the first thing I've managed to post in years and getting a positive response has been incredible. I hope you continue to like this story.


	3. Exalted Sister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Shepherds arrive in Ylisstol, where Chrom introduces Morgan to his sister before getting a new mission from the royal council.

Marching through the night was never going to be one of Chrom’s favorite pastimes. His legs ached with every step and his eyes felt a bit gritty, but the sight of the morning sun breaking over Ylisstol as they approached did a lot to relieve his negative feelings on the matter. Parts of the city were still asleep, but he could see small dots- morning people- moving through the streets already.

As they approached the city, Sully split off with Virion to show their newcomer the Shepard’s barracks while Chrom’s group would continue to the palace. Chrom felt some sympathy for both of them, Sully for the overly affectionate admirer and Virion for Sully’s upcoming retaliation. He’d been on the receiving end of her right hook, and it was not pleasant.

Morgan was rather chipper for someone who’d fought and then marched through a good chunk of the night on only a few hours sleep, eagerly looking around at the city as it came to life in the early morning. Chrom was glad for the boy’s distinctive hair and coat after a few near misses at losing him in the crowd.

“So this is Ylisstol, huh? There’s so many people!” Morgan claimed cheerfully. It was good to see people out and about after the night before, and Chrom didn’t spot any visible damage to the city.

“It appears that the capital was spared the chaos we encountered, thank the gods,” Frederick said, voicing Chrom’s own thoughts. “I see no evidence of the great quake. It must’ve been limited to the forest.”

“Well, that’s a relief!” Lissa chimed in, regaining some of the energy she’d lost as they walked. Chrom was stopped from agreeing with Lissa out loud when he noticed a stirring go through the people on the street. He worried that they’d spoken too soon about no damage to the capital until he heard someone cry that the Exalt had come to see them and he relaxed, smiling.

Emmeryn was in her usual colors of light cream and green, dressed simply but for the gold accents on her clothing and the crown on her head. His sister wore the soft and kind smile she freely gave to everyone as she moved among her people, a few loyal retainers behind her, vigilant but relaxed. It had been years since Emm had been in any danger while walking in the city.

“The Exalt is the ruler, right? Morgan said, rubbing absently at his temple. More memories, maybe? That might be a good sign.

“Yes,” Frederick answered Morgan’s question, “Her name is Lady Emmeryn.”

Suddenly Morgan looked somewhat concerned, glancing around the street.

“Is it safe? Her walking around the city like this?” he asked.

“The Exalt is a symbol of peace- Ylisse’s most prized quality. Long ago, at the dawn of our age, the fell dragon tried to destroy the world. But the first exalt joined forces with the divine dragon and laid the beast low. Exalt Emmeryn reminds us all of the peace we fought for then,” Frederick explained. Hearing this story again made Chrom wonder for the thousandth time how a bloodline like theirs had produced a man like his father. He set the thought aside to focus on the present instead, turning to Morgan.

“With Plegia poking at our borders, the people need her,” he explained to the amnesiac. “She’s a calming presence when some might otherwise call for war.”

“The people are lucky to have her, then,” Morgan said softly, and Chrom had to agree.

“She’s also the best big sister anyone could ask for!” Lissa exclaimed. Morgan blinked and tilted his head slightly, several emotions flicked across his face, seemingly without the boy realizing.

“But…wait, she’s your sister?” Morgan asked, cutting off whatever statement he was going to make as the meaning of Lissa’s comment sunk in. Chrom nearly laughed at the dumbfounded expression on his face.

“But that means…wait, you two are…” he said, words tumbling out right on each other’s heels.

“The prince and princess of the realm, yes,” Frederick put in coolly. He was still eyeing Morgan with a certain level of distrust, but it was less than it had been at their first meeting, so Chrom wasn’t abandoning all hope for the overzealous knight accepting their new friend just yet.

“You’re the ones who said you were shepherds!” Morgan pointed out.

“And so we are…” Chrom said. “In a manner of speaking. We just have a lot of sheep.”

The purple-jacketed boy didn’t seem comforted by this statement, fumbling over his next words too.

“Chrom…I mean, Prince Chrom. I apologize for my informality…”

Oh no, Chrom was putting a stop to that immediately. Clearly, someone had taught Morgan good manners, which was nice, but he had enough people calling him by titles.

“Just Chrom is fine,” he promised. “I’ve never been much for formalities.”

He heard a small huff of agreement and disapproval from Frederick behind him, but at least Morgan was relaxing and no longer looked worried someone was going to cart him off to the stocks for being informal.

“The prince and princess…” the young boy mused, and then the gleam returned to his dark eyes. “That explains why Frederick tolerates all the teasing, eh?”

“Indeed,” said Chrom’s long-suffering guardian. “Oh, the sacrifices I make for the good of the realm…”

Chrom decided to spare them from Frederick starting to list said sacrifices, spotting his older sister begin to make her way towards home. Perfect. He needed to speak with her urgently anyway about the bandits, creatures, and what to do with Morgan.

“It looks like Emm is returning to the palace. Would you like to meet her?” he asked Morgan.

“Meet her? Like, right now?” his dark eyes had gone almost comically wide. He tugged at his left sleeve in a sign of nerves, and Chrom put a hand on his shoulder to guide him towards the palace.

“Yes, right now. Don’t worry, I’m sure she’ll like you- and be very grateful for all the help you gave us,” he reassured as they started to walk, Lissa on his other side and Frederick a step behind with his horse.

“Yeah!” Lissa added. “She’s gonna love you!” his sister was nearly skipping as they headed for home.

It would be nice to get in some rest before he had to set out again, either with the Shepherds or for royal duties, in a real bed at that. He was starting to really feel the insanity that had been the last…day and a half. How quickly things could change.

The guards let them into the palace without issue beyond a few odd glances at Morgan, and Chrom led them to the throne room where they were announced and let in. Emmeryn must not have reconvened her council after her walk just yet, since it was just them, Phila, and the rest of her guards in the room. His older sister offered him a warm smile, coming off of the throne’s dais to greet them.

“Chrom! Lissa! Welcome home,” she said, “Oh, and good day, Frederick. How fared you all?”

“Well, we shouldn’t have any bandit problems for a while,” Chrom told his sister. The patrol had been successful after all, no need to start with the worst news.

“Wonderful. And our people?” Emmeryn asked.

“Safe as they can be, Emm. But we still need to watch the borders,” he warned. “The brigands crossed over from Plegia.”

Emmeryn’s mouth thinned slightly at that, the only bit of concern that broke her serene façade.

“Forgive me, milord. My Pegasus knights should have intercepted them,” Phila said, regret in her voice. Chrom shook his head.

“No, Phila,” he assured her, “Your duty was here, with the exalt.” After all, that was why he’d created the Shepherds in the first place- to fill the gaps in their defenses and respond quickly to threats that their regular forces couldn’t mobilize for in time. Phila nodded to him, looking slightly less tense, but he still wouldn’t bet against some grueling drills coming the Pegasus Knights’ way after this.

Pegasi were great for patrolling the border, but with the knights pulling double duty to protect both the border and their ruler, things were bound to slip through the cracks.

“And besides,” Lissa told her, “We had plenty of help!”

“Ah, you speak of your new companion here?” Emmeryn said, past him to their young friend with a welcoming smile. Chrom realized that the boy was standing slightly behind him, as though trying to present a smaller target.

“This is Morgan,” Chrom told her. “He fought bravely with us against the brigands. I brought him with us to see about finding him a place in Ylisstol- like with the Shepherds when he’s a bit older.”

“It sounds as though Ylisse owes you a debt of gratitude, Morgan,” Emmeryn addressed him. Chrom watched and felt his eyes going wide as his mysterious friend executed a respectful bow so polished the fussiest of etiquette tutors would have been pleased, seemingly without realizing it. All the time he’d spent so far with the boy had only seemed to raise more questions, and aside from the small memory he’d mentioned by the fire, there were no hints as to who he’d been before his amnesia. 

“Not at all, milady,” Morgan replied to Emmeryn, the small blush moving across his face contrasting with the dignity he’d just unintentionally shown.

“Forgive me, Your Grace, but I must speak. Morgan claims to have lost his memory, but it is only that; a claim. We cannot rule out the possibility that he is a brigand himself-“ here Frederick gave Morgan a sideways glance “-or even a Plegian Spy.”

“Frederick!” Chrom said, starting to get angry. There was wary, and then there was paranoid. He understood that Morgan’s story was unusual, but that was no reason to be so rude to the boy. Emmeryn shot him a look that had Chrom straighten up and relax his shoulders out of habit, feeling a bit scolded for his outburst. His sister was always reminding him to work on his control. The Exalt nodded to Frederick to show that his words were heard and taken into consideration before she turned back to Chrom.

“Yet you allowed him into the castle, Chrom. Does he have your trust?” Emmeryn asked him.

“Yes. He risked his life for our people. That’s good enough for me,” Chrom said firmly. He could feel Morgan’s trustworthiness deep in his being, some instinct he couldn’t name but knew was correct. Emmeryn inclined her head to him, turning to smile warmly at Morgan once more.

“Well then, Morgan. It seems you’ve earned Chrom’s faith, and as such you have mine as well,” she told him, and Morgan managed a small smile in return.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” he said, seeming much more relaxed now. Chrom spotted Frederick’s barely noticeable frown and clenched his jaw slightly. Emmeryn must have seen too because she turned to Frederick next.

“But thank you, Frederick, for your prudence, as always. Chrom and Lissa are blessed to have so tireless a guardian. I do hope they remember to mention that from time to time…” she trailed off.

And then came the guilt. Of course Chrom appreciated how Frederick had always looked after them, and he knew Lissa did too! But unfortunately, he’d gotten so wrapped up in his frustration he’d lost sight of the fact that everything Frederick did was to protect them, even if it was grating at the current moment. He would need to apologize to Frederick.

“They occasionally express something akin to gratitude, Your Grace,” Frederick acknowledged, and Chrom felt a little better. Frederick, never one to be distracted from his purpose, looked to the captain of the Pegasus Knights.

“Phila. I assume you’ve heard about the deathly creatures we encountered, yes?” the knight asked his counterpart. Chrom hoped this would be news to Phila and Emmeryn, but his luck wasn’t nearly that good, and his stomach lurched in fear as Phila nodded.

“Yes, milord. They’ve been sighted all across Ylisse,” she informed them gravely. Gods damn it, the entire country was in danger from these beasts? Didn’t they have enough to deal with?

Any relief that had come from the acceptance of Morgan had evaporated from the room, leaving tension in its wake at the implications of a threat like the strange creatures appearing so suddenly. They’d gotten lucky last night- his heart clenched at how close they’d come to losing Lissa- and if help hadn’t arrived when it had…

“Chrom,” Emmeryn’s voice broke into his thoughts, and he focused on her as she continued to speak, “We are about to hold council. I was hoping you could join us.”

Chrom nodded instantly.

“Of course,” he’d do anything to help with the situation, even sit in council. Lissa, who like politics even less than he did, seized the opportunity to make a semi-graceful exit.

“I think that’s our cue, Morgan. C’mon, there’s a place I want to show you,” his younger sister told their new friend, leading him out with a wave at her brother. Her determination had Morgan following easily, though his expression was mildly confused and anxious. Emmeryn let out a small half-laugh when the door had closed behind him, and Chrom had to smile, too. Lissa had always been a bundle of energy- and so far age had not seemed to temper her a bit. Some days she seemed to outshine the sun.

“Frederick,” Emmeryn indicated the knight, “could you have the servants gather the council in the meeting room, please? And let everyone know I’ll join them shortly if I haven’t arrived before them.”

Frederick bowed.

“Of course, Your Grace,” he said, turning to do as he was bid. Emmeryn took a seat on a couch at the side of the room, and Chrom accepted her silent invitation and joined her.

“You’re very protective of Morgan,” she commented.

“He was all alone, Emm,” Chrom told her, “no memories except his name and some basic knowledge. I know Frederick is just being cautious, and I’ll apologize to him for being curt, but...Morgan knew nothing, but he helped our people with no question and asked for no reward.”

Emmeryn’s eyes softened in sympathy at his words.

“So you want him to be a Shepherd?” she asked next.

“Maybe in a year or two. There’s no way to know his exact age unless his memory comes back, but he’s too young for active duty. I figured he could train with Ricken and the others until then, and…” he bit his lip, trying to figure out how to phrase his next words.

“And?” Emmeryn prompted.

“He’s got a talent for tactics and strategy- given some time to study it, he could be what the Shepherds have been missing to make us truly effective. But I don’t want to force him into anything- he might want to learn a trade or go searching for where he came from, after all.”

His sister nodded, light from the torches reflecting off her crown as her head moved.

“I think he’s trustworthy, too, Chrom,” his sister assured him, “and we’ll help him. If only there was some sort of clue to his past….”

“We can worry about it later- better yet, let me. You’ve got enough on your plate, Emm,” Chrom told her, “for now, we’d better get to the council room.”

“Alright- but you’ll come to me if you need any help,” Emm ordered as she stood, adjusting her clothes slightly as they made their way out of the room and down the short hall to the council room, Phila a step behind the Exalt as always.

“Yes, Your Grace,” he teased lightly, and got an eye roll for his troubles, though he saw her lips twitch in an almost smile and counted it as a win. A moment later, however, he composed his own face and prepared to face the council.

Only two members out of five, as well as Frederick, had arrived before them. Lord Robert, a relic from their father’s days with steel gray hair and beard sat ramrod straight in his chair, with Lady Cecily much more relaxed across from him. They both stood as he and Emmeryn entered, only retaking their seats once Emmeryn had taken the large chair at the head of the table, Chrom directly to her right.

“Are the reports true, milady? About the creatures?” Cecily asked. Robert slammed his hand on the table, making her jump.

“It’s true alright- I’ve got the wounded soldiers to prove it. If those beasts weren’t so mindless, I’d have dead soldiers- and maybe civilians!” he thundered.

“Peace, Robert,” Emmeryn said, “The purpose of this council is to find a solution.”

The lord harrumphed but settled, and the other members of the council arrived. Emmeryn called the council into session before addressing the group.

“We’ve had several confirmed reports of these strange creatures across all of the Halidom. They seem to have only one goal- attacking any human they come across,” she said, “I don’t believe I need to tell any of you how grave this matter is. We’ve never encountered a threat like this before, and it comes at a less than opportune time with Plegia eager to attack.”

“And if it turns out those sand devils are behind the whole mess, milady?” Robert demanded, and Chrom felt his fist clench underneath the table. How were they supposed to actually achieve peace with close-minded people like this lord in power? Or Gangrel, the madman. Who believed words of peace coming from a place that insulted you in the next breath?

“Lord Robert, I have warned you repeatedly about that sort of language in my council room,” his sister said, disapproval coloring her tone. The lord’s face twisted in anger for a moment, but he looked away in the closest thing the man could give to an apology. Unfortunately, he had a point. Plegia was rife with Dark Mages, after all. Who knew what could be created by those twisted minds?

Clearly, the Exalt felt this had to be addressed as well.

“If Plegia is behind this, we will discuss our response to them at that time. Until then, we must not act without proof. We only know these creatures are a threat, and they must be dealt with. Chrom, you’ve had personal experience with these…beings. Please, tell us what happened,” Emmeryn asked him. The prince nodded and stood up.

“We were camped in the forest to the west of Ylisstol when we encountered the creatures. Shortly before that, there was a large earthquake that launched molten rock into the air. Princess Lissa spotted some sort of bizarre portal in the sky, and that was when we saw those beasts fall out of the portal. They immediately attacked us, and Lissa could have been killed if not for the intervention of a helpful stranger.

They clearly have some knowledge of how to use their weapons, and the stronger ones seem to lead the weak, but other than that they seem to be nothing more than empty shells determined to attack any living being they find.

My Shepherds and I were able to fight them off while the stranger picked off the stragglers who could have made their way into town or further into Ylisse, but the logical conclusion is that they entered the country in multiple places.”

Report finished, Chrom sat again. His shoulders tensed a bit as the council’s eyes stayed on him, Robert’s gaze especially piercing. Finally, Lord Elias spoke. This was unusual, as the man was so sparse with his words that the prince had thought the man a mute until he was ten years old.

“These…creatures. Has no one seen the like before?” he questioned.

“None that the castle historian has managed to find so far,” Chrom’s sister replied, “and he is about to start checking texts from before even the days of the great Hero-King himself.”

“We can’t just keep calling them creatures, or beasts,” Cecily insisted, “they need to be named. Recorded in case they continue to plague us in the future.”

Chrom wasn’t entirely sure this was something that they should prioritize, but he did see the logic in the idea. If they couldn’t find a name, then they needed to be named, but he wasn’t sure what word could accurately describe the way those things made his gut twist or the terror of seeing them for the first time.

“What do you propose we name them, then?” Emmeryn asked. Lady Cecily frowned in thought and a short silence descended on the room for a moment before Lord Elias spoke again. Two times in one day, things must be serious.

“These horrors take on the visage of the dead risen from their graves,” he intoned.

“Risen…” Robert mused, fairly chewing the word as he said it.

“Yes, I agree. If we are in accord, henceforth we will refer to these creatures as Risen,” Emmeryn declared. There were murmurs of agreement from every member, and Chrom nodded when she looked to him for his opinion.

“Now that they’ve been named, what do we do about them?” Chrom asked, trying to get the meeting more on track.

“No ideas from our Shephard Prince, then?” Robert asked, and he felt his jaw clench along with his fist, though luckily that was hidden under the table. Why Emm couldn’t have him removed from the council, he’d never understand. He’d happily escort the man all the way back to his own lands with Falchion as encouragement if she gave the word. Not that she would.

“None that are practical,” he admitted, the words ash in his mouth as he said them. “We must prioritize protecting our citizens, but now we are fighting on two fronts.”

“It would seem we are in need of help,” Cecily commented, “And we have only one source to ask that even has a chance at succeeding before we are overrun.”

“You’re suggesting we request aid from Regna Ferox?” Emmeryn clarified, and Cecily nodded.

It was a good idea. Regna Ferox was a land of warriors, well resourced as the only ports on the north of the continent, and most crucially, not a country that his father had waged a religious war with. Especially if Ylisse could offer something to them in return, they might be open to fighting the threat of the creatures- the Risen- as a united front. He glanced at Emm to see if she was thinking along the same lines, and was reassured to see her nodding in thought.

“I don’t like the idea of being dependent on those people,” Roger said, “Ylisse should be strong enough to stand on its own!”

“Would you sacrifice your people for your pride?” Chrom demanded angrily.

“And when Plegia takes advantage of the Exalt leaving to request such aid?” Robert retorted angrily. “Or when the alliance breaks after this threat is gone and Plegia takes us when we’ve grown soft huddling behind true strength?”

Chrom knew his anger must be all over his face from the burning sensation he felt, and he was prepared to unleash every bit of frustration he felt on Lord Robert. He was halfway out of his chair when the sound of Emmeryn clearing her throat forced his behind back where it was supposed to be.

“Enough!” even in anger, Emmeryn’s voice was still soft, but it cut through the room like a sharp knife. She took a moment to look at each member of her council and Chrom in the eye before speaking again.

“I hear your concerns, Lord Robert, and I thank you for your wisdom on the matter. Even if Regna Ferox agrees to aid us, we must make sure to study how the Risen operate and train our troops to handle them alone, if need be. But even a temporary alliance could save countless lives,” she decreed.

“Your Grace, leaving the castle may not be wise,” Phila warned, never one to stay silent where his sister’s safety was concerned.

“I must agree, milady,” Cecily put in. Emmeryn nodded. Chrom had a feeling he knew where this was headed, so he spoke up.

“Then logically, this task falls to me. I’ll depart tomorrow for Regna Ferox to ask for their aid with this threat. I’ll take a band of my Shepherds as my escort to leave our armies at full strength,” he said, pleased that he sounded more calm and confident than he felt. Diplomacy wasn’t his strong suit, no matter how often his tutors had tried to encourage him to match his sister’s skills.

“Thank you, Chrom,” Emmeryn gave him an approving smile. None of the council objected to this, and shortly after Emmeryn dismissed the council so she could prepare to take audiences that afternoon. Everyone except Frederick and Phila left them.

“Milord, milady, you should both eat something,” Frederick insisted, “I’ll fetch you something from the kitchens so you don’t have to travel all the way to the royal dining room.”

He was out the door before Chrom could tease him about how often he reminded him that the knight was not a steward or a nanny before turning around and doing things like this.

“He means well,” the prince reminded himself aloud. He was rewarded with his sister’s laugh.

“He does. I’m very grateful for how carefully he looks out for you.”

“Me too. Now if only he could strike a better balance between protection and smothering, things would be perfect.”

Emmeryn hummed. Chrom felt his thoughts drift back to Morgan as a comfortable silence settled. He knew Lissa wouldn’t do anything that would freak the boy out too much, but he knew her enthusiasm sometimes got away from her, and if Morgan got another memory flash that distracted him at the wrong moment…

“Thinking about your young ward again, Chrom?” Emmeryn asked.

“I wouldn’t call him my ward, Emm,” he replied.

“You seem determined to look after him,” she pointed out.

“Well, clearly whoever was supposed to be looking after him did a poor job considering how I found him,” Chrom grumbled. “Something about him…it just feels familiar, I suppose, and I can’t put my finger on it. I don’t suppose you know of any healing techniques for the memory?”

“As much as I enjoyed my time training as a healer, I was never able to get into the more advanced disciplines,” Emm lamented. “But perhaps the palace healers will know, or his memory will return in time.”

“Naga make it so,” Chrom prayed. He heard Frederick’s armored steps approaching through the slightly open door and changed the subject. “Let’s just enjoy lunch together before I need to go and prepare for tomorrow, hmm?”

“Alright,” she agreed. Frederick placed their meals in front of them- Emmeryn’s preferred lunch of a simple sandwich and vegetables, the better to eat one-handed as she went over reports, and Chrom’s favorite roast chicken and some warm rolls. Frederick bowed to them and left as soon as Chrom dismissed him to rest and prepare for tomorrow.

Tomorrow, he sighed. Another day, another duty. Even mysterious boys with a gift for strategy sometimes had to come second in the life of a prince. But for now, Chrom could enjoy a rare moment of peace as he ate lunch with his older sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate Chapter Summary: Wherein Chrom continues to subconsciously parent Morgan and hates council meetings.  
> If anyone is curious about the specific changes this AU entails, I've added a note to chapter one after I went back to edit.


	4. Unclear Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgan's confusion reaches a new high as he gets a flashback, meets some people that already feel familiar, and has a checkup that reveals something unexpected.

Morgan appreciated Lissa taking the time to show him around- he figured being a princess and a healer probably kept her pretty busy most of the time- but the tour of the palace was giving him a headache. Well, that wasn’t strictly true. He’d felt mostly fine in the city before Exalt Emmeryn had passed them by. There had been a tingle of familiarity that led him to believe he’d at least been to a big city before, if not lived in one. Whether it was Ylisstol or not he couldn’t be sure.

Seeing Lady Emmeryn walking the streets had started a sort of mental itch- and it just seemed unsafe to have her in the open for some reason. And when Lissa had mentioned that she was the best big sister, he swore he’d been about to correct her on the subject before what she said had sunk in. But why would he do that? Emmeryn did seem like a wonderful sister, after all.

The itch had gotten worse as they approached the palace and then the throne room, which made absolutely no sense. Surely if he was known to the court, someone would have recognized him. Maybe it had been a long time ago? But that wouldn’t explain why the impression was so strong. And how had he wound up near Southtown with just his clothes and weapons if he was from Ylisstol? 

Morgan had hoped leaving the throne room would provide some relief from the strange feeling, but in truth it had only gotten worse as Lissa led him through the palace towards whatever she had wanted to show him, stopping along the way to show places like the ballroom, music room, guest quarters, and anything else that struck her fancy along their path. Each one had made the feeling increase until he was hiding the winces from a full-blown headache.

“Oh, right, here’s the library- just ask me or Chrom if you want to come in here and we’ll write you a pass,” Lissa broke into his thoughts, pushing the large doors open. Morgan barely took in long rows of shelves nearly three times his height before his head pulsed painfully and he nearly fell over, barely able to support himself on the wall.

“Morgan!” Lissa exclaimed, but her voice sounded so distant she might as well have been a mile away.

_“Mama, Mama! Can we read this one next?”_

_Laughter._

_“You want to read a tactics book, sweetie? Are you sure you don’t want to read the one about the horses instead?”_

_“No, Mama! This one! I wanna be just like you!”_

_“Okay, Morgan. Come here then.”_

_He scrambled into a warm lap, eagerly looking at the first page._

_“The basics of tactics are very simple, only requiring a few key elements. The true test of mettle comes…”_

“Morgan? Hey, Morgan!”

He gasped, finally focusing on Lissa again. He’d slumped down the wall at some point and was now sitting on the floor. The princess’s face was in front of him as she kneeled, one hand on her staff and the guards outside the library door looking on in concern.

“Hey, what happened?” she asked him.

“Memory,” he managed to gasp out, and Lissa’s mouth opened in a small ‘o’ of surprise.

“You got your memories back?” she asked, looking sad when he shook his head.

“Just one…I was little, but I wanted my mom to read me a tactics book. She must have been a strategist, because I said I wanted to be just like her,” Morgan told her. Lissa reached out and squeezed his shoulder.

“Well, that explains where you learned how to plan battles like the one last night, right? So I bet she’d be really proud!”

“You think?” Morgan asked hopefully.

“Absolutely, you were brilliant!” the princess assured him, and he couldn’t help a smile even as his head continued to throb slightly.

“I guess seeing the library brought it back, somehow,” he said softly. “I don’t know why though.”  
Lissa hummed thoughtfully, helping Morgan up.

“I need to do more research on amnesia,” she said decisively, “maybe I can find a way to help you.”

“Maybe I should start hitting my head on things to try and knock them loose.”

“What? No! That could make it worse!” Lissa cried, then looked apologetic as he winced. “Whoops, sorry.”

“It’s okay, I’m feeling better than I was,” he told her, and the headache was starting to subside. Like the memory had been trying to break through a block in his mind and now that it had, the pressure in his skull seemed to ease. Nothing else had come out beyond the one memory, though, but maybe something else would come soon. Hopefully with less pain.

“That’s good. I wonder what triggered the memory, though…” Lissa mused, deep in thought.  
“I mean, I’ve had these impressions…since we entered the palace, and they just got stronger as we went,” he admitted, “and when you opened the door to the library, it was like some kind of trigger.”

“Why would that be? Have you been here before?”

“I don’t know!” he exclaimed.

“Oh, right. Sorry. But hey, someone in the palace might recognize you if you have been here before!” Lissa tried to reassure him.

“Maybe,” Morgan conceded. “But anyway, you were taking me somewhere?”

“Oh, right! Well, since you’re probably gonna be a Shepherd, I’ll show you the garrison. You can meet some of the others, too,” Lissa told him, resuming her walk with Morgan following after her.

“I still don’t get why you’re called Shepherds,” he commented.

“Oh, that was Chrom’s idea. Because we’re not regular soldiers, you know, doing stuff like patrolling the border, we’re meant to protect people whenever there’s a bandit problem or something like that. You know, guard the flock,” she explained.

“Oh, that makes more sense,” Morgan admitted. “But you guys would really take me, just some random person?”

“Anyone can be a Shepherd, and you’ve already proven yourself. Chrom will probably want you to train a while before you go out on a mission again, though.”

“Maybe I can get my memory back while I wait, then,” Morgan said, feeling lighter. At least he wasn’t going to be sent out into the streets.

“Exactly!” Lissa beamed, as they left the main palace and headed for one of the outbuildings. Morgan found himself straightening his clothes and hair surreptitiously as they entered. His first view was of a spacious common room, tan stone walls and large windows creating a light space with a few tables and couches to make the place suited to common meals and time spent together. A few scattered bookshelves and crates filled some of the left-over space. It was a little mismatched, but overall the effect was very homey.

“Here we are! The Shepherds’ garrison. Go on, make yourself at home,” Lissa told him.

Two people were in the common room already, and they turned when Lissa spoke to look at Morgan. A muscled and slightly tanned blonde man in the garb of a fighter, one arm covered in heavy plate armor and the other sporting only two metal bands drew Morgan’s attention first. He had seemed to have a perpetual confident grin on his face, even as he looked the newcomer up and down.

His conversation partner was rather starkly different, and not just because she was a female. The young woman had long brown hair that was so pale it almost looked gray in the light and was dressed for maximum mobility in battle with a short dress, upper body armor, and a tall pair of boots. Light eyes flicked over Morgan curiously, but before she or the man could say anything, a voice rang out from one of the hallways branching off from the room.

“Lissa, my treasure!” the voice called, and suddenly Morgan was dodging to the right as a blonde blur rushed up to his friend. “Are you alright? I’ve been on pins and needles!”

“Oh, hey, Maribelle!” Lissa greeted warmly. Maribelle huffed at the blonde princess as Morgan managed a good look at her now that she was no longer charging. Blonde, perfectly curled ringlets were pinned out of her face with pristine white bows, and the overall impression of her dress was that of a noble lady about to go for an afternoon ride with her loose pink breaches, sturdy knee-high boots, and a fitted top with a shawl that seemed mostly decorative. The only hint that this woman was also a Shepherd was the protective reinforcement over her hips, good for mounted fighters. 

“Oh hey yourself!” she exclaimed. “I’ve sprouted fourteen gray hairs fretting over you!”

“Aw, you worry too much,” Lissa told Maribelle, even as she let the other woman fuss over her and check for hidden injuries. “I can handle a battle or two! Although I could do without the bugs and the bear barbeque….” She trailed off.

“Hey, squirt!” the wild-haired blonde man broke in, “Where’s Chrom? I bet he had a rough time out there without ol’ Teach and his trusty axe!”

“Oh, so you’re “Teach” now, Vaike, is that it?” Lissa asked, giggling slightly. “And here I thought people were just born lacking wits. It can be taught?”

This teasing was clearly both common and welcome because Vaike just laughed in response.

“Never doubt the Vaike!” he declared before his face contorted in realization. “Wait, was that an insult?”

Before anyone could process this, the brunette spoke up.

“Beg pardon,” she broke in, “but when we might see the captain?”

“Poor Sumia,” Maribelle commented. “She’s simply been beside herself with concern…her eyes were scanning the horizon all day during training. She might have earned fewer bruises fighting blindfolded.”

“Aw, Sumia, that’s so sweet of you to worry about Chrom,” Lissa told her.

“Worry? Well, I..” Sumia stuttered a bit before finding her words, “He’s our captain and our prince- of course I’d worry!”

Morgan had lost the word he was thinking of, but he figured that this wasn’t strictly friendly worry about Chrom that Sumia was harboring based on the comments the other women had made. Vaike had clearly had enough of this subject, however, because he was looking at him again.

“So, who’s the stranger?” he asked, jerking his chin at Morgan. He just hoped that this wasn’t going to be another Frederick situation. 

“No one’s stranger than you, Vaike,” Lissa told him. “But allow me to introduce Morgan! He helped us out while we were away- he’s brilliant! He’ll probably be a Shepherd soon. He's got all the makings of a great tactician. You should see all the tricks he’s got up his sleeve!”

Morgan tried valiantly to stop the blush that fought to creep onto his face at this praise as Vaike raised his eyebrow and Maribelle looked at him with a discerning gaze.

“Oh yeah?” the fighter asked. “Can he do this?”

Vaike then proceeded to let out a blech that could easily be confused for a wind spell based on the amount of force, the sound echoing around the common room. It was rather impressive in a way, he supposed, and Morgan was fairly sure he couldn’t manage that.

“I’ve got a lot to learn when it comes to belching, ‘Teach’,” he told the other man. “In any case, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintances.”

He smiled at Vaike and Sumia but was cut off before he could do the same with Maribelle, the blond woman let out a loud noise of disgust.

“Vaike!” she exclaimed. “That was abhorrent! Must you baseborn oafs pollute even the air with your buffoonery?” Maribelle demanded before whirling on Morgan, who took half a step back on instinct but thankfully did not accidentally reach for his sword or tome.

“And you, Morgan! Don’t encourage him!” she scolded. “I’d hope you were cut from finer cloth!”  
The noblewoman (at least Morgan was almost certain she must be) huffed loudly before turning on her heel and stalking off. He hadn’t meant to offend her, and he wondered if he’d forgotten to do something along with the rest of his memories.

“Don’t take it to heart, Morgan,” Sumia advised him. “Maribelle warms to people slowly.”

“Or burns too quickly,” Lissa giggled, and Morgan let himself relax. “But yeah, just give her time.”

So it probably wasn’t something he’d done, at least. That was good. If his memories never came back, it would be nice to have friends like the Shepherds. All of them so far, even Maribelle, had given him that same unexplainable feeling of security and almost familiarity that he’d felt with Chrom, Lissa, Frederick, and even Emmeryn. That feeling hadn’t led him wrong yet, no matter how confusing it was.

Almost as if summoned by Morgan’s thoughts, Chrom walked in a moment later. Sumia perked up considerably when she spotted him, fumbling over her words as she walked towards him.  
“Ah! Captain! You’ve returned. I was- I mean we were so-“ Sumia was cut off by the fact that she’d tripped over empty air and nearly slammed her face into the ground. She quickly jumped back up, face bright red as she frantically dusted herself off.

“Sumia? Are you alright?” Chrom asked, concerned. “Those boots of yours again?” he questioned, cluing Morgan in to the fact that Sumia might fall a lot.

“No! I mean yes! I mean…” Sumia gave up and sighed heavily. Chrom spared her any further embarrassment by changing the subject, face going serious.

“Alright, listen, everyone,” the prince addresses them, getting all their attention sharply focused on himself. “In the morning, we’ll be marching to Regna Ferox.”

“Regna Ferox?” Morgan questioned, blinking as he tried again to bring up knowledge from the depths of his mind.

“A unified kingdom to Ylisse’s north inhabited by barbarians, or so it’s said,” Sumia explained to him helpfully.

“Warriors are what they are,” Chrom corrected her, not unkindly. “And we’ll need their strength to quell this new menace.” He took a deep breath before he continued to explain things to them. “Typically, the exalt would request such aid in person. But given recent events…Well, the people might worry should my sister suddenly leave the capital. So the task has been passed to us.”

Chrom gave everyone a once over before continuing to speak.

“Now, this mission is strictly voluntary,” the prince told them. “So if, for any-“

“I volunteer!” Lissa cut off her brother.

“Me too!” Vaike hastened to add. “You’ll be needin’ ol’ Teach along for such a delicate mission!” the man insisted, flexing his muscles like that would make his point more clear.

“I’ll go as well,” came a strong sounding new voice, and Morgan jumped and turned to spot a brunet man he hadn’t seen before, a huge knight in similarly sized armor. How had that man entered the room so silently? It wasn’t a problem with Morgan’s senses, obviously, since everyone else had jumped as well.

“…What?” the knight asked, seeming genuinely confused. “I’ve been here the whole time!” he told them. Morgan couldn’t see how that was true, but the man didn’t show any telltale sign of lying. A moment later, when everyone had recovered from the shock of the knight- what was his name?- appearing, Sumia spoke up.

“I…I, um..” she said, voice soft and hesitant. Chrom looked at her.

“Yes, Sumia?” the captain of the Shepherds asked.

“It’s just that,” Sumia paused for a moment, nearly shrinking into herself, “I’m not sure I’m quite ready for a proper mission just yet. I’d probably just get in the way,” she said, looking down. Chrom frowned slightly, indicating he disagreed.

“Well, you could just stay behind the main group, and if a battle is met, just watch and learn?” the blue-haired prince suggested. “Your choice, of course. But some lessons can only be learned on the battlefield.”

“Well, if you think it wise, Captain,” Sumia said, only stuttering slightly.

“Just stay by me and you’ll be fine,” Chrom promised her.

“Oh, yes!” Sumia agreed, then blushed at the speed and eagerness with which she’d said it. “I mean- yes sir, I’ll do that,” she corrected herself, sounding more professional this time.

Chrom nodded to her with a kind smile. Morgan’s mind was racing, thinking about what it would be like to stay here, only knowing Maribelle and Emmeryn if the former didn’t go on the mission because Frederick surely would be going with his charges. It was actually kind of scary. He knew he couldn’t always be with either Chrom or Lissa, but he didn’t want to be so far from them just yet, in a place that gave him headaches.

Besides, something about Regna Ferox had struck the place in his mind he was coming to know as the spot just before where his memories were hiding. Maybe there would be some answers there, and he didn’t want to travel on his own.

“Can I come?” Morgan asked him, drawing all eyes to him.

“I don’t know about that,” the prince replied, “I thought it might be better if you focused on training and trying to regain your memory for a while before you formally join the Shepherds. We have a few others who aren’t on active duty yet…”

“But I’ve already been in two fights with you,” he argued.

“Those were different circumstances,” Chrom pointed out. “You’re still young, Morgan.”

“What if I’m from there? I’d rather go with you to try and find answers than stumble around hoping my memory just pops back while I’m sleeping!”

He heard some confused noises from the others at this and Lissa whispering an explanation to them. Chrom’s mouth thinned as he thought about it for a moment.

“Alright, but if there’s a battle, I want you to hang back with Sumia- only interfere if absolutely necessary, agreed?” Chrom offered.

“Agreed,” Morgan said, nodding. He could live with that- his muscle memory could only take him so far in a fight, after all. He needed some active training. Vaike, Sumia, and (presumably) the as of yet unknown knight left to go prepare for the next day’s march. 

“Right. I’ll see if we can get a couple more people and we’ll be good to depart in the morning,” Chrom declared.

“Depart where?” came Maribelle’s voice as she rejoined the group in the common room, apparently over the outrage of Vaike’s belch.

“We’re going to Regna Ferox for help with the threat,” Lissa explained.

“It’s a voluntary mission, Maribelle,” Chrom told her, “but we’d be glad to have you along.”

“I’m afraid I simply can’t, milord,” Maribelle told him. “I have to return to Themis to assist my father in a few matters.”

“I understand, Maribelle,” Chrom assured her. The noblewoman gave him a respectful nod.

“It won’t be the same without you, Maribelle,” Lissa told her. “You could have gotten to know Morgan better, too!”

“Morgan is going?” she asked.

“Strictly as backup,” Chrom clarified.

“Backup or not, has Morgan had any sort of medical checkup? It’s procedure for any new Shepherd to be thoroughly checked out! What if he’s ill? Where did you even find him?” she asked, rapid-fire.

“I feel fine!” the boy insisted, but there was a look in Chrom’s eye that told him he wasn’t about to get out of being looked over.

“Do you know how many diseases can run rampant before the first person even feels a tickle in their throat?” Maribelle demanded.

“Well, no….I don’t know much anything, really,” he admitted.

“He’s got amnesia, Maribelle,” Lissa told him, but she looked a little disappointed in herself, “I   
should have given him a checkup as soon as we got back to the city…”

“You’re very busy, Lissa darling, and have other duties beyond your healing,” the other woman soothed. “You’d best go get ready for your long trip, I’ll handle young Morgan’s checkup.”

Morgan suddenly felt a bit nervous at the thought of Maribelle giving him a checkup, and it didn’t help when the woman gave him an appraising look up and down and nodded to herself decisively.

“If you’re sure, Maribelle…” Lissa trailed off. The blonde woman gave the princess a winning smile.

“Of course, my treasure. Really, go rest. You have barely any time to yourself at home before you have to leave again.”

“Well, alright. Take good care of Morgan, okay?”

“Naturally, I will perform at my best,” Maribelle told her loftily, and Lissa smiled reassuringly at Morgan as she left.

Chrom put a hand on Morgan’s shoulder, his voice warm and encouraging as he spoke.

“Maribelle really is an excellent healer,” the older man promised, and the young amnesiac relaxed a bit.

“I really have to get a checkup?” he asked.

“Of course you do!” Maribelle exclaimed, and Chrom squeezed his shoulder.

“Okay,” he gave in. It couldn’t hurt, right? Maybe there would be a scar or an old injury that would explain his amnesia. The blonde woman nodded in slight approval and led him down the hallways to a small infirmary, directing him to take off his coat and sit on one of the empty beds. Chrom had followed them as far as the doorway, but now he hung back.

“I’ll be right outside, alright Morgan?” he asked. Morgan suddenly felt very small.

“Could you stay?” he asked in a rush, not even realizing the words had come out of his mouth until after he’d said them and he tried to fight down a blush. Chrom blinked at him for a moment but then walked over to stand by the bed.

“As long as it’s alright with Maribelle,” he said, looking at the woman as she returned with a staff, some potion bottles, and a few instruments Morgan didn’t know the name of but assumed were for healing.

“As long as you stay out of the way, milord,” she told him sternly, and Chrom nodded in agreement, smiling at the boy. He was able to stay calm as Maribelle checked over his arms for signs of illness or injury before going over his scalp, checking for lice, and then for any sign of a head injury after Chrom reminded her about Morgan’s missing memory. When that was finished, she tutted slightly.

“Well, there’s no sign of head trauma, but it could be an old injury- or even some sort of curse,” the blonde healer told them, and Morgan tensed at the idea. Chrom was frowning.

“Is there any way to tell?” the prince asked.

“Minds are...delicate, milord. Healing them is a very specific specialty. I’d be surprised if there were more than a handful of such specialized healers in the Ylisstol. I can check for a curse, but I wouldn’t know where to start with reversing it,” she informed them.

“At least we’d know where to start,” Morgan said, “if we know whether it’s a curse or not.”

“A fair enough point, I suppose,” Maribelle conceded, giving Morgan a small potion bottle filled with green liquid. “Drink up. As much as you can.”

Morgan opened the bottle, deciding to try and swallow it all in one go before he lost his nerve and tossing the liquid into his mouth. He managed to choke most of it down, gagging at the taste while Chrom patted his back in sympathy.

“It’s not that bad,” Maribelle sniffed, watching Morgan closely, apparently waiting on some sign. After about half a minute, Chrom let his curiosity get the best of him.

“Well? What’s the verdict?” he asked. Morgan looked to Maribelle nervously.

“Well, unless it was a particularly subtle curse, we would have seen the evidence of it by now- the spot where he got hit with the magic would be glowing- does anywhere feel warmer than it should be?” she directed the last bit at her patient.

He did a mental check of himself.

“No, I feel normal,” he told her, and she nodded.

“Then it wasn’t a curse that caused your memory loss,” Maribelle declared. He felt both relieved and a little disappointed at the results. They may have ruled something out, but he was still at square one with this mystery of what happened to his memories and why some things felt so familiar when they really shouldn’t.

“Now then, to continue with your exam. Strip down to your smallclothes,” the blonde ordered matter-of-factly. He felt his eyes widen.

“Wait, what?”

“You heard me. I have a few more checks to do- I will not do shoddy work on this or any other examination! I’m a healer, young man, no matter my rank. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before or won’t see again,” Maribelle lectured. “You’d think I’d asked you to strip to your bare skin, the way  
you’re carrying on!”

Morgan looked to Chrom for assistance but found none in the cobalt-haired man’s gaze.

“It’s alright, Morgan,” he promised. Morgan nodded, not sure why he felt so shy about taking his clothes off- heck, Vaike didn’t even wear a shirt so it wasn’t like the Shepherds didn’t know what a male chest looked like, and he got to keep his smallclothes on. He took a deep breath and took off his shirt and pants as instructed before sitting back down.

Maribelle, who had taken the time he’d been getting out of his clothes to make notes on some parchment, looked back up at him and nodded.

“See, perfectly fine. Now, this potion will tell me if you’ve got any parasites in your organs so-“ she suddenly let out a loud gasp when her eyes landed on Morgan’s now bare chest, and he froze, worried something was wrong.

“Oh!” Maribelle exclaimed, wide-eyed before turning to Chrom. “I must apologize for my behavior milord, I obviously had no idea that….” Her eyes flicked back to Morgan’s exposed chest. Chrom’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Huh? Maribelle, what are you talking about?” he asked, glancing over to Morgan before looking away like everything was normal. Then he froze, head turning back to stare at Morgan, who felt himself turning bright red at the scrutiny.

“What? What’s going on? Is something wrong?” he asked, looking down at his chest, trying to see what all the fuss was about.

The angle was poor, but he could see the bottom part of some sort of mark over his heart, a sort of curve that had a small spike at the lowest part of the dip, with another curve just above it that must continue past where Morgan could see, even while craning his neck to try and get more of the picture.

“What’s that?” he asked. “Do I have some sort of tattoo?”

He looked up to Chrom and Maribelle, who were both still gaping at him. Chrom swallowed, clearly struggling to compose himself, seeming to carefully choose the words that came out of his mouth next.

“It’s…not a tattoo, Morgan. No one in Ylisse would tattoo that on someone, Plegia hates that image too much, and I doubt it would happen in Regna Ferox, either,” the prince told him.

“Why? What is it?” he asked, starting to feel scared and confused- was it the mark of a criminal or something? Why was it such a big deal? Maribelle, still unable to speak just yet, grabbed a small mirror from a table and held it up so Morgan could see the full marking.

The second curve he saw turned out to be the bottom of a teardrop shape, and the bottom, thicker curve surrounded it until it broke off into two outward spikes near the top. Morgan blinked at it, then looked up to see if his wild thought was wrong- and it wasn’t. The mark on Chrom’s exposed shoulder was exactly the same as the mark on his own chest.

“Wait….we have the same mark? What does it mean?” he asked, feeling suddenly lost and weightless.

Maribelle bit her lip, looking to Chrom, who seemed to have lost his words after telling Morgan it wasn’t a tattoo.

“Morgan, only certain people have that mark….” She trailed off, glancing at Chrom before picking up another of her medical supplies- it looked like a small pot of powder. “May I try something?”

“Of course,” Morgan told her, still nervous. The blonde healer opened the container and proceeded to sprinkle the powder over the mark. It glowed briefly before returning to normal, looking exactly as it had before.

“What was that?” the blue-haired boy asked, still confused about what was going on.

“It means it’s genuine- a part of you. Right, Maribelle?” Chrom spoke, voice quiet.

“Yes, milord. It’s real,” she confirmed.

“Okay, so it’s real- but what does it mean?” Morgan asked. Chrom and Maribelle exchanged looks, leaving him feeling frustrated.

“You guys just keep looking at each other! What does the mark mean?”

“It means,” Chrom told him, face serious, “that you and I are related.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate Chapter Summary: In which amnesia is taken a little more seriously than in cannon, and healers do more than just wave staves at people. 
> 
> Over 500 hits? Woah! It's so great to see that people are reading this fic, and hopefully enjoying it too! Thanks, everyone!


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